Black Cats and Voodoo Dolls
by Noir The Cat
Summary: Drew Pilgrim was a typical 16yearold girl, albeit one with some mad detective skills. But when she foolishly agrees to investigate the mystery of the Gracey Manor, she finds herself racing against time in order to keep herself from becoming a ghost..
1. Chapter 1: A Very Bad Decision

Black Cats and Voodoo Dolls

Chapter One: A Very Bad Decision

Disclaimer: I do not own the Haunted Manor franchise, Disney owns it. Nor do I own the story _And Then There Were None_ by Agatha Christie. Get it? Got it? Good.

_From my earliest youth I realized that my nature was a mass of contradictions. I have, to begin with, an incurably romantic imagination. The practice of throwing a bottle into the sea with an important document inside was one that--_

"Um, Drew?"

_--never failed to thrill me when reading adventure stories as a child. It thrills me still--and for that reason I have adopted this course--writing my confession, enclosing it in a bottle, sealing the latter--_

"Drew, you in there? Drew?"

_--, and casting it into the waves. There is, I suppose--_

"DREW!" A number two pencil hit the head of Drew Pilgrim, a scrawny, brown-haired teenage girl, currently mesmerized in Agatha Christie's _And Then There Were None. _Peevishly, she looked up from her book and glanced over at the villainous pencil-thrower, her best friend Nina Caldera. Nina was blonde, short, and had "an excessive need to exert control over people and over her own life due to her parents decisions" according to her psychiatrist. Nina said that that was just an eloquent way of saying that she was a control freak thanks her midlife crisis father and her mother, who had ran off to an artist's commune. Drew just said crazy parents or no, it meant that Nina was still just mad at everyone for being taller than her.

"Jeez, Ninny," Drew said irritably, "What was that for? I was just starting to read Wargrave's confession." Nina looked heavenward, as if to ask the powers that be, _I ask for a best friend, and you give me this?_ Nina heaved a melodramatic sigh.

"Drew Janice Pilgrim," said Nina tiredly, "What time is our first period class?"

Drew raised an eyebrow. "8:57," Drew replied warily.

"That's right. And what hall did we stop in so you could finish the final chapter of your book and stop bumping into people?" asked Nina. Once again, Drew raised her eyebrow.

"First," Drew answered slowly, "Is there a point to all these questions?"

"You'll see. Anyways, where is our first period?"

More eyebrow raising. "Um, fifth hall? You know, on top of fourth hall? It takes four minutes to get there. "

"Correct. Now," Nina said with a flourish, "Look at the clock. What time is it?"

Giving a curious look to Nina, Drew turned to stare at the clock. And stared. And stared.

The clock read 8: 56. Shit.

----

_1.2 minutes of mad dashing to first period and five periods later…_

"Look, Drew, I'm not mad at you for getting lost in that book. I've been your best friend since first grade, I know how you get when you have a murder mystery in your hands." Nina glanced at her friend who was sitting in the desk next to her. Drew currently had her head propped up with her hand and was staring off into space.

Or was she? Nina turned her head so she could what was in Drew's line of vision. An attractive boy with spiked light-brown hair and emo glasses was quietly working on the class assignment, laughing at whatever joke the guy next to him had just said.

Nina groaned. "Jeez, Drew, put your eyes in, will ya? Taylor isn't that much to write home about." _This_ got Drew's attention. In less than a millisecond, Drew had whipped her head around to glare at Nina.

"What are you talking about?" asked Drew. "Have you even looked at the guy?"

"You have, obviously," Nina replied dryly. Drew narrowed her eyes.

"Stop teasing," went on Drew, a little peevishly. "Anyways, it's not just his looks that I like about him. He's funny, and smart--"

"And a delicious piece of eye candy," added Nina, grinning mischievously.

"--And he's great with animals. You know that he works at the pound? He's kind to animals, Nin! He's perfect!"

Nina stopped working on her graph and looked up at Drew. "So why don't you ask him out then?" Drew looked at Nina incredulously.

"Uh, hello? He's dating Nicole, incase you haven't noticed," pointed out Drew. Nina shrugged.

"So? They agreed to see other people. Drew-Bear, just ask him out, it's not going to kill you!"

Drew barely noticed the use of her baby name. "Nina," Drew sighed, "I just can't, all right?" Not waiting for a response, Drew went back to her work.

Nina said little for the rest of the period, deep in thought. She continued being quiet and pensive until they were walking home from school, when suddenly she stopped in the middle of the autumn leaf-covered sidewalk, as if she had been struck by a lightening bolt.

"Drew, I just had an epiphany," Nina proclaimed. Drew snorted. "No, seriously," she insisted. "I've finally figured you out!"

Drew sighed and stopped about two feet away from Nina. "Right, then, good doctor," said Drew jokingly, "What's my problem?"

"You're a coward," Nina said matter-of-factly. Drew stared at her in shock and outrage, and was about to say something when Nina held up her hand.

"Just listen to me, 'kay?" asked Nina. When Drew said nothing, Nina went on, walking along side her as she did so.

"Ever since we were little, you weren't afraid of the usual things people were afraid of. You had a pet spider--a tarantula to be exact. You read _It_ when you were eight and didn't have any nightmares. You yawned when my older brother put on that _Alien_ mask and jumped in front of us and started screaming. Heck, you've even laughed during _Psycho_. But," Nina said dramatically, "When it comes to normal stuff, you just….I don't know, _freeze_."

"Example?" asked Drew.

Nina bit her lip in thought. "Well, take asking out Taylor for instance. There's a good chance that he'll say yes if you ask him, and yet the last time you tried asking him out, you tripped over thin air while walking over to him, and bumped into a vending machine, which then promptly fell over, busted the pipe connecting to the water fountain, and flooded the entire third hall."

Drew put her hands on her hips. "That's not cowardice, that's clumsiness."

Nina shrugged. "Whatever. So maybe you're not a coward, you just have some serious self-doubt. Which is completely stupid, by the way." Nina added.

"I didn't even say anything!" protested Drew.

"You were thinking it! Look Drew, you are one of the smartest people I know. You were the only one who figured out what our old principal was doing with the money that was supposed to go to art. You're an amazing detective, even if you claim that you haven't done any real work, and underneath that oversized black hoodie and long hair is the face and body of a model."

Drew rolled her eyes. "Thanks for the motivational speech, I appreciate it. But it's not going to help me ask Taylor out."

Nina smiled. "So you say," she replied, "But one day, you're going to do something completely amazing, that will help a lot of people, and you'll see that I'm right."

A loud clap of thunder resounded above them. While they had been talking, dark clouds had formed, and now the sky looked a little…

"Spooky," said Drew aloud. "I'd hate to go trick-or-treating in this." The two friends stopped at a street corner. At this point, Nina went to the left to her house, and Drew kept walking to her own humble abode two houses down the street.

"I don't think anyone will." said Nina, shifting her backpack strap a little. "You coming to Islands on Saturday?"

"I'll try. See you then. I'll call you when I get home." Drew said, walking off to her house.

Nina stared at Drew's retreating form. With a sudden burst of impulsiveness, she shouted, "You are going to see that I'm right, you know! Just watch!"

Drew turned around, and began walking backwards so she could respond.

"So you tell me, Ninny," she called back, "So you tell me!"

---

It was around 6:00 PM when the phone rang. Drew was sitting at the coffee table in the living room, working on an essay and waiting for the takeout guy to come with the food. Her father's meeting at the university was running late, and her mother had to work late at the station, leaving Drew with nothing to do but either microwave the leftover vegetarian meatloaf from last night or order Chinese. You can guess what she did.

Sighing, Drew walked into the kitchen and picked up the phone. "Pilgrim Residence. Who is it?" She answered wearily.

There was a crackling noise on the phone before a voice began speaking. "Good evening, Miss Pilgrim," said a gravelly, serious voice. For some reason unknown to Drew at the time, it made the hairs on her back stand on end. "I am speaking on behalf of my employer, Mr. Gracey."

Drew made a face. Gracey? Gracey was the name of the abandoned manor at the edge of town. And from what she knew, everyone in the family of the said name was dead. Maybe a distant relative had come to restore the house?

Drew examined her nails. "Go on.." she said slowly.

"As you may have concluded, Mr. Gracey is a distant relation who has only recently found out that he inherited the house. He has decided to restore it and sell the house." Drew almost dropped the phone then. The man on the phone had just said almost exactly what she had thought! Nervously, she kept listening.

"As I was saying, Mr. Gracey plans to restore the house. Unfortunately, some…rumors about the house need to be stamped out first before he moves in. I'm sure you know what I'm talking about?"

"Yeah, I know," said Drew, rolling her eyes as she spoke. "The house is supposed to haunted with, like, 999 spirits, right? What a joke."

Although Drew wasn't sure how she knew, she could swear that the man on the line was smiling. "I knew you weren't the superstitious type. Anyways, Mr. Gracey, although a brilliant man, is that type of person. He has told me that until he has someone investigate the mystery of the house, he will neither sell or restore it."

Drew frowned in confusion. "Hang on a tic," she said, "What mystery are we talking about here?"

"The mystery of the death of young Gracey's beloved bride, of course. The present Mr. Gracey claims that the reason why the house is haunted is because of that mystery. He believes that the murderer's spirit resides in the house, and that it destroys whomever dares to enter the house, and turns them into a ghost. Mr. Gracey feels that once the murderer is discovered the spirits shall move on, and that house shall be haunted no more."

Drew was silent for a moment. "You want me," she said blankly, "To enter a supposed haunted manor, from what I've heard no one ever has come out of, just so that your overly superstitious boss can renovate the house and sell it? Forget it. Even if they're aren't any ghosts, chances are that the house is a death trap anyways. I'm not about to risk my life so your boss can be happy. It was nice talking to you." Drew was about to hang up the phone when the man on the other line began speaking again, this time more urgently.

"Please, Miss Pilgrim," said the voice, "I beg you to reconsider. If you do this job, you will paid _handsomely."_

Drew paused. "How handsomely are we talking here?" she asked suspiciously.

"15,000 American dollars." Drew nearly dropped the phone. "Are you still interested in the case, Miss Pilgrim?"

Drew thought for a moment. "Fine, I'll do the job," she agreed. "I'll meet you and your employer---"

"Wonderful. Please arrive at the manor tonight at…I believe that the manor is just an hour outside of town, isn't it? Well, please arrive at 7 o'clock sharp. The gate will be open, and the entrance unlocked. Farewell until then." There was a shuffling noise on the other end, and the dial tone soon filled Drew's ear.

Drew hung up the phone in a daze. That couldn't have just happened. She did not just agree to enter an abandoned house for $15,000 dollars. Heck, her fee was only ten dollars an hour to begin with!

Still doubting the conversation, Drew pinched herself. She winced as she felt the sting. Okay, that conversation wasn't a dream then. Still, she couldn't go. It was already 6:30, and all Drew had was her bicycle. Not only that, but it was going to rain any minute now.

_I can't--won't go, she thought determinedly. It's completely, totally insane. I am not going to take some detective job for a loony heir and his creepy assistance. Even it's worth 15,000 dollars. _

"I won't go," Drew said to the empty kitchen. "It's crazy!"

---

_Five minutes later…_

"I must be the craziest girl on the planet…" moaned Drew as she sped along the road on her bike, raindrops pelting her like bullets.

-fin-

A/N: Yeah, so you finished the first chapter of my fan fiction. Go you! I'd give you a cookie, but the monitor makes it hard to do that. Thanks for reading, and don't forget to review!


	2. Chapter 2: Bump in the Night

Black Cats and Voodoo Dolls

Chapter Two: The Things That Go Bump in the Night

Disclaimer: I OWN NOTHING BELONGING TO DISNEY! NOTHING! 00 I am a Disney child of poverty, you hear?

Although the rain had stopped coming down in buckets and was now nothing more than a gentle mist, the sky still had a dark, slightly sinister look to it. On a bumpy dirt road shrouded by heavy tree foliage, hardly anything could be heard but the distant hoot of an owl and the croak of a toad.

That, and the sound of a squeaky bike moving up the road.

"Dear diary," Drew said aloud with mock enthusiasm as she pushed her bike up the road. "Today, I stupidly agreed to wander about an abandoned manor for 15000 dollars. Yes, I am _that_ materialistic." Drew stopped her narration as she maneuvered around a large rock in the middle of the road. "I am now stuck moving my bike, which, by the way, has an effing flat tire because some effing rabid raccoon bit into the wheel, up an abandoned road, _looking_ for this deserted house, all for 15000 dollars. I am wet. I am cold. All the equipment in my bag is probably damaged from the heavy rainfall earlier. And why?" Drew asked rhetorically, dropping her bike. "Why? Why? **_Why?_**" she shouted.

"**_BECAUSE I WAS TOO EFFING GREEDY AND MATERIALISTIC TO TURN DOWN A FLIPPING IMPOSSIBLE JOB, THAT'S WHY!"_** With a cry of frustration, Drew began jumping up and down on the muddy road. Unfortunately, this didn't solve anything, it just got mud on her pants. With her temper, and pants, dampened, Drew gave a resigned sigh.

_Well, this is just peachy, thought Drew. I am all alone on an abandoned road for no good reason except for monetary gain. Well, the misery ended here, decided Drew. With sudden determination, Drew dropped her duffel bag that she had toted on her shoulder all the way here, squatted down, and began rummaging through her bag for her cell phone. Nina lived only a mile away from the main road. She could call her and ask for a ride._

Suddenly, there was a bright flash of lightening, followed by a resounding clap of thunder. Drew gave a startled yelp, jumped up, spun around---

_And saw an outline of a mansion in the distance. Drew nearly dropped her cell phone._

"Now that's just freaky." Drew said aloud. What made the whole thing even stranger was that now after the freak flash of lightening, there was another dirt road right in front of Drew, leading up to the house. It had probably been too dark to see when she had been walking up the road, a slightly fearful Drew reasoned. It was dark, rainy and murky. It would have been easy to miss.

Right?

Too tired to answer this question, Drew began to push her bike through the shrubbery that blocked the fork, and she went up to the Gracey Manor.

---

_After 30 minutes of trying to navigate a bike on a cobblestone pathway covered with mud, then leaving at next to the base of a flight of stairs leading up to the house…_

Despite the disarray the house had been left in, Drew could tell that the house had once been very beautiful. Greek columns held up the roof proudly, and cobblestone pathway lined with alternating weeping willow and elm trees led up to the house and to the porch. It pretty much said, _Gone With the Wind, eat your heart out_.

But even though the house looked very picturesque, there was still something a little…off about it, you could say. Many of the plants were dead, and the ones that were left had gone wild, climbing over the iron-wrought fence surrounding the property and covering a good portion of the house. The paint was peeling, the porch steps decaying, and it looked like a few shingles had slipped off the roof here and there. Not only that, but there was a strange essence of darkness around the house, as if one too many terrible things had happened here. Ravens rested in the branches, their beady black eyes staring intensely, perhaps even maliciously, down at Drew.

Drew shivered, partly from being drenched to the bone and partly because of the aura that seemed to radiate from the house.

_Get out, it seemed to whisper darkly, Leave. You should not be here._

Bad aura or not, though, Drew had a job to do, and she was not about to let some silly fear get in the way. Taking a deep breath, and making a silently prayer to whatever higher power that existed to not set the ravens on her, Drew began to walk up to the house.

Fortunately, or perhaps unfortunately to some, no ravens attacked Drew, only following her with their eyes as she gingerly climbed the porch steps and tip-toed around the porch. Not like she could tell if the porch was rotting or anything, she just wanted to play it on the safe side.

Finally, after much careful footwork, Drew had made it to the door. Now, Drew had walked up to many a door in her day, as everyone does. She had seen screen doors and painted doors, solid oak doors and office doors. But never in her life had she had seen a door like the one of the Gracey Manor that had made her feel so…nervous.

Taking a big gulp, Drew pushed her hair out of her eyes, straightened her shoulders, shifted her duffel bag around, and raised her hand to knock on the door. Eerily enough, however, the door slowly creaked open, revealing a shadowy room inside.

Cautiously, Drew stepped into the dark room. After a moment of temporary blindness, Drew's eyes adjusted to the darkness, and Drew was finally able to see that she was in the main hall. A moth-eaten Oriental carpet was underneath her, and the dark wood floor panels must have had at least an inch of dust on them. The chandelier was weighed down by cobwebs, and some of it's decorations were missing. Drew was surprised that the room didn't have heavy duty scars on the wall, she would have thought…Drew's eyes fell upon the archway that led to other rooms in the mansion. Someone had hastily boarded it up, and there were disturbingly large scrapes on the door frame.

_Well, um, I guess that answers my question…Drew thought more than a little uneasily. Trying to ignore the rising feeling that she should have left after the lightening, Drew looked around. Other than that archway and the door behind her, it didn't look like there were any other ways out. And where was Mr. Gracey and his assistant?_

Drew shifted her weight a little, eyeing the room uneasily. "Um…hello?" she called out, "Is anyone here?" No answer.

Drew sighed. "I knew this was stupid," Drew grumbled, turning around. "I should have just stayed home and--"

"Mreow?" A pathetic mewling sound caught her ears. Slowly turning toward the right, where the sound had come from, Drew looked down to see a slightly scrawny black cat, with large yellow eyes. It looked at her in the manner that all cats do: curiously, but with a lofty arrogance that seemed to say, _Who are you?_ in superior tones.

Drew sighed with an odd sense of relief. "Hey, there, cat," she said with teasing affection, "What are you doing here? In a place like this, I thought that they would have walled a black cat like you up."

The black cat's arrogant curiosity was replaced by one of offense. Giving a slight huff, the cat strode off. Curious herself, Drew followed it.

"Cat, where are you going? There aren't any other doors…in the...room.." Drew trailed off as the cat pushed open a door at a right angle to the entrance. It was a pretty unassuming door, made of the same wood as the floors. How had Drew missed it?

Biting her lip nervously, Drew pushed the door open a little more and peered in. It was a large, octagonal room, with four portraits on four of the eight sides. Curious, Drew opened the door all the way, and walked in. Without the slightest warning, the door slammed behind Drew, causing her to jump up and shriek. Eyeing the door warily, she walked into the dead center of the portrait gallery.

As she looked about for an exit, Drew eyed the portraits set up on the wall. Obviously, these must have been the heads of the Gracey family. One was of a pretty girl in a pink dress, carrying a parasol of the same hue. Another was of a rather smug looking man, his arms crossed in front of him defiantly. A third portrait was of a middle-aged man, obviously the patriarch. The patriarch had a dignified, authoritarian look about him, and was holding a pipe with one hand. The final portrait was of a pleasant, rosy-cheeked woman, probably in late forties or early fifties. They were nice paintings, and you could tell that the people had been as happy as anyone could be when they were alive. Well, except for that one guy with his arms folded, Drew concluded as she glanced over at that particular portrait. He looked like he must have had an unsatisfactory home life or something.

Anyways, Drew had to get back to the mission at hand: leaving the portrait gallery. Turning decisively to the right, Drew stepped forward and walked…

…straight into a wall. Backing up with a confused and slightly pained look on her face, Drew went back to the center of the gallery. Well, _that _was a first. Drew could have sworn that that wall was where the exit was, but then again, the wood paneling on the walls probably blended the door in.

Now at the center of the room, Drew gave the room a wary, puzzled look. Something was seriously wrong with the room, it was…_stretching_. That was impossible, though--a room could not stretch. That defied the laws of physics, or something like that.

Something else was wrong too, the paintings were stretching, along with the room. And the paintings weren't elongating either; they were stretching out to reveal additional parts of themselves. The patriarch's portrait was slowly stretching out to reveal that he was wearing comical, red-striped boxers, and was standing on top of a keg of dynamite with a lighted fuse. The defiant looking man was standing on top of the shoulders of a nervous looking man, who was standing on top of the shoulders of another nervous-looking man…who was standing waist deep in a pit of quicksand. The pretty girl with the parasol was calmly balancing on a fraying tight rope, a hungry crocodile waiting in the swamp below. As for the rosy-cheeked older woman, she was standing on a tombstone, presumably her husband's, and from the look of the tombstone, it looked as if the woman had done her husband in.

Drew's breath was coming out in short, jagged gasps, and her entire frame seemed to shake. "This is not happening, this is not happening," she muttered feverishly. "I have to get out of this room before I completely lose it." Quickly calming herself, she looked away from the disturbing artworks to find a door, window, anything to help her escape.

But there were no doors, and there were no windows. The wood paneling stretched high up, as if the room were a massive prison tower, with portraits of mortals and their gruesome ends to torture the prisoners.

Drew began to breath in jagged gasps again. _There has to be a way to get out of this room, there has to be a way_, Drew thought in a panic. _There has to be!_

Just then, she heard a faint, creaking noise above her, something that sounded similar to a rope creaking on wood. That was a stupid thought, though--the ceiling was completely smooth, matching the paneling on the wall. Still, despite the little voice in her telling her to not look up, she looked up.

Staring down at her from the attic rafters, grinning in the way only the dead can, was a skeleton, his flesh picked clean by birds and rats, dangling from a fraying noose. He was dressed in a now-tattered white shirt and black pants, and with every sway of on the rafter he was dangling from, the rope frayed. Drew stared up at him, transfixed in horror as the fraying rope split away from the rafter, leaving the skeleton held up by only five threads--four--three--two--one---

Then the rope fell away from the rafter, and the skeleton, still grinning, plummeted down towards the paralyzed Drew.

Drew screamed in fright as the lightening flashed, illuminating the freakish corpse once more. As if to heighten the terror even more, the lights went out. Drew closed her eyes, bracing herself for the shattering of bones all over her and then--

_Ping! Two doors swung open as the lights flickered back on, leaving Drew with her eyes shut tight, her arms blocking some imaginary attacker. She looked rather comical. Cautiously, Drew cracked open one eye, then both as she stared in baffled fear at the portrait gallery. All the paintings had resumed their original forms--the patirarch, the parasol girl, all of them. Giving one last baffled glance at the portraits, Drew rushed out of the room and on to hopefully less frightful places. _

----

_Two minutes, in which Drew trips over several random objects and gets the shit scared out of her by a coat hanger, later…_

Something was wrong with the Gracey Manor, Drew realized it now, seriously wrong, and it wasn't just with the portrait gallery. Everywhere Drew searched in the house, looking for someone, _anyone_, she noticed it. The way the sculptures' eyes followed her as she walked passed them, the way the wallpaper designs on the walls had taken sinister, slightly demonic appearances. Heck, even what had probably been an innocent arm chair cover had the look of a demon!

The paintings in the portrait gallery weren't the only ones that were morbid, too. When Drew was looking at some paintings in the hall a little while ago, they had suddenly changed in appearance. The painting of a girl lounging on an Egyptian chaise had the girl's lower half contort into that of a panther. The one next to of a knight riding a horse turned the knight and his horse into rotted corpses. The rest of the paintings had probably changed too, but Drew had been too busy getting out of the hall to notice.

Now she was in an abandoned funeral parlor, the coffin still in the room. Yeesh. Everything was exactly as it had been left--the chairs, the plants, everything. Though after years of neglect, the plants had taken on a withered look. Despite the coffin, Drew felt strangely calmed and a little saddened by this room. There were no ghosts here, just the sad memories of what had probably been a happy place.

Just then, Drew noticed a little movement in the corner of the room. Was it the assistant? Drew quickly walked forward, but stopped disappointedly as she realized it had just been a trick of the light. Drew glanced down at the coffin in front of her. _Ishmael Hands_, read the brass plate bolted down on the coffin. Drew chuckled a little a the sight of it.

"Nice name," she whispered. With a sudden interest in the caretaking of the coffin, Drew bundled up one of her sleeves and bent down to clean off the label…

Only to have two rotting hands shoot up at the top of the coffin and try to open it. Instinctively, Drew pushed the coffin back down, her eyes wide in both surprise and terror.

"Let me out!" cried a muffled voice from inside. "Let me out, I say!" Terrified at the sound, Drew jumped back and ran out of the room, her heart pounding.

It seemed that the moment the corpse had woken up and tried to get out of the coffin, the whole house had come alive with the paranormal. Down a dark hall, a candelabra floated around aimlessly, as if it's invisible carrier were hopelessly lost. The pictures of relatives on the walls contorted into disturbing creatures, their mouths wide with terror or ferocity. Doors bulged and knockers rattled, muffled screams being emitted from the other side. Drew could hear maniacal laughter coming from behind her, growing louder and louder, no matter how fast she ran from it.

Finally, at the end of a hall, she found perhaps her only way out: a door. She couldn't be 100 percent sure that there wasn't anything behind this one, but it was the only she could possibly get away. Practically leaping at it, she began to grope at the handle, desperately trying to get the door to open just enough for her to slip through.

But the door would not budge. Suddenly, the maniacal laughter started up again, coming closer and closer.

"C'mon, c'mon…" Drew muttered under her breath in frustration, pushing the door. The laughter had become softer, but it was still coming nearer to Drew every minute. With a sudden cry, Drew stepped back, rolled up her sleeves, and ran towards the door.

_OOMF! Drew tumbled through the doorway and into the room. In a panic, Drew ran over to the door and slammed it shut, locking it as soon as she could. _

Taking deep, shuddering breaths, Drew turned around. The dark room was illuminated with an eerie green glow, and a mist hung around at her feet. Heavy velvet curtains, moth-eaten after all the years gone by, hung around the windows. A variety of instruments lay scattered about the room, but seemed to be centered around the main object in the room: a circular table with a chair in front of it, and a crystal ball on top. Was this a séance room of some sort? Curious, Drew walked up to the table and pushed the chair back so she could get nearer to the table and examine the crystal ball with more ease. Inside of the ball, hazy purple and green smoke floated about, blurring whatever was hidden inside. Drew squinted at it. It was so strange, but it looked as if hidden behind the smoke, there was a---

"Hello, dearie," Drew jumped back a pale woman's head with frizzy dark hair formed inside of the crystal ball. "Lost your way, have you?" the woman asked teasingly. Drew simply stared wide-eyed at the ball, her mouth agape in shock.

The woman narrowed her eyes. "Have you young people no manners at all?" the woman asked. "Come, pull up a chair." Drew continued to stare at the floating head. The woman's face took on a displeased look.

"I said," the woman said with more force, "_pull up a chair_!" Out of the blue, the chair that Drew had pushed aside coasted up behind her, forcing her to sit down with a yelp. The woman smiled in smug satisfaction.

"Much better," the woman said slyly. "Now, to business…" The woman closed her eyes and began to mutter an incoherent incantation. With a shudder, the table and the instruments around it began to rise and spin, along with the chair that Drew was sitting in. As the chair spun around the table, the séance woman began to chant a spell:

"_Serpents and spiders, tail of a rat  
call in the spirits wherever they're at.  
Rap on a table, it's time to respond,  
send us a message from somewhere beyond.  
Goblins and ghoulies from last Halloween   
awaken the spirits with your tambourine.  
Creepies and crawlies, toads in a pond  
let there be music from regions beyond.  
Wizards and witches wherever you dwell  
give us a hint by ringing a bell."_

Drew and the instruments began to spin around the table the table faster and faster, the room becoming a massive blur. Drew closed her eyes tightly to keep herself from feeling sick, but she could still sense the speed increasing, the chair spinning more and more wildly out of control until---

With a jolt, everything, table and all, stopped suddenly and landed neatly, albeit loudly, on the floor. Shakily, Drew got up from her chair, clutching the table for support. The woman in the ball looked somewhat pityingly at green-at-the-gills Drew.

"The first timers always have motion sickness afterwards, I never could understand it," she observed as she watched Drew return to a somewhat normal skin-tone. Drew looked at the séance woman incredulously.

"You couldn't understand it?" Drew whispered, still feeling a little sick from the séance. "Anyways, what did you just do?"

The séance woman took on a more professional tone than the one she had been using for the "session". "I integrated you into the manor, of course," the woman replied, raising an eyebrow. "It's the only way you could explore the manor and not get turned into quivering bits of meat by the more malevolent spirits, anyways. It's what we do for all those who are requested to solve the mystery of the manor."

Drew made a funny face at the floating head. "So what, I'm under contract to solve the mystery of the Gracey Manor now?" she asked. The head nodded.

"You could say that. Of course, you do realize that now that you're "under contract", as you put it, you've put something at stake if you don't fulfill what's agreed upon in the little "contract", don't you?" The séance woman smiled at Drew. It wasn't a very nice smile.

Drew eyed the floating head warily. "What did I put at stake?" she asked suspiciously. The woman's smile got even bigger.

"Why, body and soul, m'love," the séance woman said somewhat evilly. "If you fail to solve the mystery, we appropriate your body and make you ghost number 1000. This is the Gracey Manor after all, what did you expect?"

Drew did the only thing a sane, sensible girl who had had her nerves beaten to a bloody pulp could do after receiving this information. She passed out.

-fin-

A/N: Bet y'all thought I wasn't going to update, didn't you? Well, unlike my catastrophic feat known as…well, I won't mention it here, I will update this on a somewhat frequent basis! And I will finish it too! Watch!

Jasper: Of course you will, m'dear…

Me: Shut up, you stupid mutt! Anyways, you aren't supposed to be here 'til chapter 3! Skedaddle!

Anywho, onto to saying hullo to the people that commented!

Aquarian Wolf: Thank you sooo much for reviewing and adding me to your C2! I appreciate it! Thanks for the info on that HM comic by the way, I looked up and it seems pretty cool. Sorry for getting LLVL stuck in your head, hopefully you got it out by now.

Dark Goddess: Thanks! This wasn't really meant to be a Halloween-y fan fiction, though, so it doesn't really matter when I update. I just added that bit in the first chapter because Halloween was coming up.

Thank you for reviewing! Coming up for Livin' La Vid--er, Black Cats and Voodoo Dolls, Chapter 3: Cats, Dogs, and…Voodoo Porcelain Dolls? Eh, it's a work in progress!


	3. Chapter 3: The Cat's in The Bag

-1Black Cats and Voodoo Dolls

Chapter 3: The Cat's in the Bag

Disclaimer: I hate to have to waste space with this stupid disclaimer but anyways: I own nothing belonging to Disney, okay? Nothing! Zero! Zilch! Nada! Nor do I own the name Wolfgang Elias Furlong--that is the property of the wonderful creators of the Haunted Mansion's Ghost Gallery. Someone go and give them a cookie for thinking up of that name! Now!

"I can't believe they dumped the flesh bag on us. Like we're a bloody babysitting duo or something." A male voice complained. The voice was unmistakably British, and sounded as if someone had poured a whole bucket of arrogance over it.

"Jasper, you make it sound like we're dead." A female voice replied.

"We are, aren't we?"

"No, look at yourself. You're not blue, like the rest of the deadies, are you?"

"Well, we're close to being dead. We're, we're--oh, bugger, the flesh bag is awake. I'm going before she starts screaming."

Drew found herself roused by this seemingly age-old argument, along with the massive headache that was forming as she gained consciousness. Could have been from the fact that she was sleeping on the cold stone floor.

"Nghhh..." Drew groaned, her head pounding. "More sleep..." She couldn't really remember what happened; more than likely she had fallen asleep in Nina's kitchen. But when did Nina know someone called Jasper?

"Oh, don't worry Jasper, she isn't waking up anytime soon," said the female voice. It had a Southern drawl to it, and seemed to put emphasis on the second or third syllable of every word. Despite her overwhelming desire to fall asleep again, Drew was compelled to look up. With a slight grunt, Drew got herself into an upright position, turned her head and saw...

...The same scrawny black cat that had been up in the entrance hall, sitting on a kitchen chair. The cat was staring at her with curiosity, and some slight apprehension, too. As all the memories up to passing out in the séance hit her, a panicked expression formed on Drew's face.

"Please don't tell me you can talk," she begged to the cat. The cat made an apologetic shrug, its whole body moving from the motion.

"You're in the Gracey Manor, child," the cat said a little sadly, "What'd you expect?" Drew made a slight, pitiful sound, then put her head on her knees. She felt like sobbing hysterically, but her tear ducts were being unusually rebellious today.

The British voice echoed from down the hall. "Well, is she screaming yet?" The cat closed her eyes in irritation.

"You can't hear anything, can you?" she shouted down the hall. "She isn't screaming, she's ready to cry!"

"Really?" the voice responded with sudden interest. The sound of clicking nails echoed down the hall, and then the form of a massive blood hound came into the room. "This should be good, most of the fleshies just pass out." The blood hound plopped down on the floor. Glaring furiously at the dog, the black cat jumped off of the chair and went over to Drew.

"Now don't you cry, honey," the cat said soothingly to the sniffling Drew, "We don't have any tissues, and I wouldn't want you to ruin your pretty little face with your jacket. It looks like it'd be scratchy."

Drew sniffled. "It's a hoodie, and it's not scratchy," she grumbled. "And I'm not pretty. I'm scrawny, I'm wet and cold, and---and," Suddenly, the tear ducts kicked in.

"I'm going to die!" Drew bawled. Sobbing on near hysteria, Drew put her head on her knees. Sardonic amusement filled the blood hound's eyes, and he began to chuckle.

"Rather optimistic, isn't she?" he said sarcastically. The cat hissed at him.

"Oh, shove it, you mutt," she snarled. "Weren't you the one who ran around screaming like a little girl once you found out?" The dog fell silent almost instantly. With a satisfied look on her face, the cat returned to the task of getting Drew to calm down.

"It's going to be all right, sweetie, don't worry," she assured the sobbing Drew. "You aren't going to die--at least, if you solve the mystery you won't."

"She doesn't have a sodding chance in hell." the blood hound grumbled. Once again, another look from the cat sealed the hound's mouth shut.

Slowly, Drew's sobs were reduced to sniffles. After rubbing her eyes with the sleeve of her hoodie, she looked over at the black cat.

"What are you, anyways?" Drew asked curiously.

"A black cat and a blood hound, what'd you think we were, the ghostly hitchhikers?" asked the blood hound rhetorically.

"Oh, don't play dumb, Jasper," snapped the black cat. "She wants to know who we are and why we're stuck walking on fours." With the ease of an experienced gymnast, the cat made a running leap onto the chair she had been previously sitting on.

"Anyways, sug," the cat said matter-of-factly, "We're what happens when you break the rules of the house."

"The rules?" echoed Drew. The cat and dog nodded simultaneously.

"The rules." repeated the black cat.

"The ever-so wonderful rules," grumbled the blood hound bitterly. "Fat lot of good they've done to anyone."

"There are three main rules when it comes to the Gracey Manor," explained the cat, "Rule Number One: All those who agree to solve the mystery must solve it before the grandfather clock in the main hall strikes 13. Since the clock doesn't start until you meet Madame Leota, you yourself have 13 hours and 30 minutes left. If you fail to solve the mystery, your life will be taken as forfeit, and you shall join the house as a ghost. Rule Number Two: Under no circumstances are you allowed to exit the grounds. If you attempt this, your body and soul will be torn apart from each other, and your soul will be place in the nearest object. You can guess this is what happened to us," added the black cat. Drew nodded. The cat went on.

"And finally, Rule Number Three: Never enter the Gracey mausoleum. You may explore the house from top to bottom, question every ghost in the manor, explore the grounds to their fullest extent, but you are forbidden from entering the mausoleum. Any questions?"

Drew nodded. "I've got a few," she said, "First off, why can't anyone enter--"

"The Gracey mausoleum?" piped up the blood hound. "No one knows. Ever since the first ghost entered the house, however, the mausoleum has been a taboo. We don't mention it or speak of it more than once, and when you try to bring it up in conversation, every ghost will avert their eyes and change the subject. Forget trying to get any more information on it, it's damn near impossible."

Drew nodded, then spoke up again. "And another thing," she asked, "What are your names?"

The black cat looked surprised, but immediately the look passed. "Madeline Devereaux," she replied. "Historian. Became a cat on January 30th, 1962. I had 13 minutes left on the grandfather clock in the hall, so I figured I might as well try and make a break for it an' scale the garden wall. I had almost gotten to the top when--wham! I was in the body of the black cat who had been sitting on the top!" Devereaux shuddered. "Never doubt what they say about the number 13, child."

The blood hound looked up. "Jasper Ramsley," replied the dog. "Head foreman of the Gracey Manor, turned into a dog in the winter of 1876. Never could remember the date," Jasper added. "I had just found the young master Gracey's body up in the attic, and I figured that then was as good a time as ever to leave to house. I had just made it through the cemetery gates with my dog when suddenly, well, you know what happened."

Drew smiled grimly. "Drew Pilgrim, amateur detective. Brought here by the lure of money. Haven't died yet." She gave a sigh. "Man, I'm starved. Do you guys know where the food is?"

Devereaux raised an eyebrow. "This is a kitchen, you know," she pointed out. "The heads of the house normally manage to get some food from the outside world in here." Drew, still sitting on the floor, had been too busy crying to notice that she was in a kitchen, and a very big one at that. The floor was made of slate, and a massive table sat in the middle, probably once used to cut up, garnish, and cool off whatever dish was being served for the Gracey's. An old firewood stove sat in the corner, along with a pile of moldy, moss-covered wood. The room was very sparse--Drew doubted that there was any food in the remaining kitchen cabinets. Drew sighed.

"No way is there going to be any food in here. And if there is, it's probably moldy…" Drew trailed off. Suddenly, a light bulb went off in her head.

"Do you two know where my duffel bag is?" she asked. Jasper gave her a look.

"It's just in front of the kitchen door," he said slowly, "But what do you need--" He was cut short when Drew scurried past him and went out of the kitchen. A few moments later, she returned, toting her dark blue duffel bag. She dropped on the floor with an "oomph", then squatted down and began to search through its contents.

"C'mon, I know I put you in here before I left," Drew muttered. "C'mon…Gotcha!" Drew said happily, pulling out a bag of "fun-size" candy.

"I grabbed some Halloween candy before I left the house," explained Drew. "I've been too busy screaming in terror or crying to remember it until now." Content with her rediscovered bounty, Drew pulled out a candy bar and began to munch on it.

"So," Drew said, most of her unease gone now that she had something to eat, "Do either of you two know where the library is?"

"It's down the hall, up the stairs and to your left," answered Jasper warily. "Why do you want to know?"

Drew, now finished with her candy, crinkled up the wrapper and put it in one of the duffel bag pockets. "Well, there's probably a map of the house, right?" Drew explained, opening up her bag again. "People usually keep stuff like that in a study or a library. I don't want to get lost when we're exploring." After searching through her bag yet again, she pulled out a flash light.

Jasper raised an eyebrow. "We?" he echoed. "What's with the use of 'we'? We're not going with you." Drew put her hands on her hips.

"Oh, yes you are," she said bossily. "There's no way in hell I'm going out there on my own, you two are coming with me!" Drew flicked on her flashlight. "Now, lead the way, Snoopy." Drew began to follow Jasper, but stopped when she realized that Devereaux was still sitting on the chair. She turned around to look at her.

"What's wrong?" Drew asked curiously. Devereaux shifted from paw to paw.

"Well…not that I don't like playing Nancy Drew or anything, but--well, it's just that--" Devereaux stumbled around with her explanation, trying to find the right words. Jasper sighed.

"Oh, for heaven's sake, Devvie, it's not that bad…" he groaned. Jasper went on after Drew gave him a puzzled look. "Despite the fact that Dev has been living in the manor for 42 years, she's petrified of the ghosts. She hates leaving the kitchen, it's the only place the ghosts never haunt. It was only chance that you found her up in the entrance hall."

Drew was silent, a thoughtful expression on her face. Then she grinned.

"Devereaux, what if you came with us in my bag?" she asked, placing the bag on the floor and opening it. "You wouldn't have to look at the ghosts, you'd just be inside here." Drew patted the bag. "C'mon, you know you want to go!"

Devereaux looked at bag warily. "I wouldn't see any of the ghosts?" she asked suspiciously. Drew shook her head.

"Nada. None of them would bother you, either. Heck, you could sleep in there if you wanted to." Drew grinned. "C'mon. Please?"

Devereaux sighed. "Oh, all right. But if any ghost pops their blue head in there you take me straight back to the kitchen!" After a moment's hesitation, Devereaux jumped in.

"Don't forget to leave the bag open a little!" Devereaux shouted from inside.

"I won't," Drew replied, zipping the bag up as she did so, leaving six inches unzipped at the end, so Devereaux could still breathe. She picked up the bag, holding the straps instead of pulling it over her shoulder as she normally did.

Jasper, who had all this time been sitting impatiently on the floor, pushed himself up. "Now that you two are finished," he said, "You may now follow me to the library."

---

_20 minutes of following a bloodhound with no real sense of direction later…(13: 10)_

The hall was dead silent, unlit with the exception of the pale moonlight that shone through the window. Hardly anything stirred, save for the portraits that would occasionally yawn or even change into a decomposed form, just for kicks.

Suddenly, a light clicking noise echoed down the hall, followed by someone gasping for breath and a light that bounced off the walls.

The wheezing became louder. "You…" panted Drew to the dog in front of her, "…_lied_."

The bloodhound, Jasper, stopped and looked at her incredulously. "Good God, it was only ten minutes!"

Drew look of doubt and outrage increased. "Ten minutes?" she echoed, "Ten? That was not ten minutes! That was…" Drew worked out the calculations in her head. "Twenty!"

Devereaux popped her head out of the bag. "The girl's right, you know," she concurred. "You do take too long in getting to the library. You'd think that after living in the house for 148 years you'd know the layout."

Jasper glared at the two in annoyance. "Master Gracey designed the house so that you could never "know the layout", no matter how long you lived here--there would always be something to surprise you." Jasper began to trot over to a door. "Anyways, this is it," he said, nudging the door open with a paw. "Don't choke on the dust…." The door swung open, and Drew and company walked in.

The library's collection was comparable to that of the Library of Congress. Actually, it put that one to shame, but the L.O.C. was the only library that could just match it. The library had two floors, and almost all the walls were covered with bookshelves. Every type of book imaginable was there, even a Gutenberg Bible was propped up on a stand in the corner. A large oak desk stood at the end of the library, along with a plush armchair. A massive fireplace stood at a 90 degree angle to the desk, with a small fire burning in its hearth.

Drew frowned at the fireplace. "Who started the fire?" she asked curiously. "I thought ghosts couldn't hold stuff."

"No," said Devereaux, wriggling out of the duffel bag, "But corpses can."

"Corpses!" shrieked Drew, dropping the bag. Devereaux let out a startled meow as she tumbled out of the bag. "You mean like that one who tried breaking out of the coffin?"

Devereaux glared at Drew, obviously upset about being dropped. "Yes, child," she replied grumpily. "The dead walk in the Gracey Manor, don't get so wild about it."

"Sorry…" Drew said, her eyes scanning the library. Her eyes rested on a large portrait hanging above the fireplace. "Is that…?"

"William Gracey?" finished Jasper. "Yes." Mr. Gracey was a young-looking gentleman with dark hair and dark eyes. He was dressed in the typical fashion of his time, but that wasn't what drew you to the picture, it was those dark brown eyes of his. They seemed to suck you in, like two large black holes, and followed you throughout the room.

Drew let out a low whistle. "For someone who spent 20 years designing the house, he looks pretty young." Jasper snorted.

"That's not Master Gracey senior, the one who designed this house, that's his son," explained Jasper disdainfully. "Edward Gracey's portrait was moved to the main gallery shortly after his death. William's portrait was then painted and brought here to replace it. Don't they teach you nothing about local history?"

"The French Revolution's a bit more interesting than a local legend, I think," said Drew, smiling, "Even if one of the main characters is pretty cute." Jasper did not seem to find this at all amusing.

"You'd be surprised at the stories these walls could tell you if they could speak," remarked Jasper coldly. "And since people have been boarded up inside them, some of them can."

Drew looked apologetic. "Sorry…" she mumbled. Hastily, she walked over to the desk and rolled up her sleeves.

"Okay," she said, flicking on the flashlight, "Let's find that map!" Drew moved to open one of the cabinets, then jumped back in alarm as a drawer shot out, then quickly closed, as if trying to bite one of Drew's fingers.

Drew looked indignant. "It tried to bite me!" she cried out, looking at the desk warily. Devereaux let out a small chuckle.

"Of course it did, you didn't ask it if you could open it first." explained Devereaux. With a running start, Devereaux leapt onto the desk. Expertly, she rapped on the wood.

"Ned?" Devereaux called out. "Nedry?" A loud creak answered Devereaux. She looked pleased, and continue to talk to Nedry the living desk.

"Nice to hear from you again," Devereaux said nonchalantly. "How's the desk life treating you? No mouse squatters, I hope?" The desk let out a few more creaks. "That's great to hear, babes." The desk creaked again.

"I'm fine, thanks for asking," Devereaux went on. "But I need something from you. You wouldn't happen to have a map of the house would you? We've got a human who needs it." Another creak. "Yes, the one who opened your drawers without asking. Go easy on her, she didn't know any better. Anyways, you got the map?" There was another creaking noise, followed by a drawer popping out, revealing a rolled-up crinkled yellow map.

Devereaux grinned. "That's perfect. Thanks, babes, you're an angel." Bending down to get the map, she picked it up with her teeth and jumped off the desk.

"Here you go," she said to a stunned-into-silence Drew, "One map of the Gracey Manor, as promised." Drew picked it up and unfolded it, looking at it's contents. Jasper trotted over to talk to Devereaux.

"Very classy, I must say, picking the dirty map up with your teeth," replied Jasper dryly. "Pretty soon you'll be cleaning your fur with your tongue."

Devereaux glared at Jasper. "Shove it, hound dog," she hissed, "You're one to talk, Mr. I-Chase-My-Tail-Around."

Jasper was about to say something vicious in reply, when Drew suddenly rolled the map up and got up.

"Done!" she sang happily. "We're ready to go!" She began to walk to the door, Jasper and Devereaux trailing behind her.

"May I ask exactly where we are going?" asked Jasper dully. Drew stopped at the door, giving Devereaux enough time to jump back into the duffel back.

"We're going to the séance room, of course," said Drew, working the doorknob. "I want to talk to that lady with her head in a ball."

"You mean Madame Leota?" asked Devereaux, her voice muffled from inside the bag.

"Yep!" confirmed Drew as the door swung open after much doorknob-jiggling. Jasper gave a weary sigh as if hanging around with Drew was about to be longer and a bit more tiring than he had thought.

"Right then, to the séance room," said Jasper following Drew out of the library. "But don't blame me if you lose your head!"

---

_Five minutes later, in which Drew gets to the séance room easily than she anticipated, allowing her to brag to Jasper at the end… (13:05)_

"Just admit it," sang Drew triumphantly, "I know the house better than you, and you're getting senile in your old doggy years!"

Jasper growled. "I was 8 years old in doggy years when I got stuck in this body, that does not make me senile!" he barked irritably. "And don't be so cocky, you've got a map! That's assistance you know, you probably couldn't get around without it!"

"Oh, don't be such a killjoy!" said Drew cheerily. "And anyways, shut up--we're here."

The door way to the séance room was elegant, and it intimidated you ever so slightly. It had double doors, and at the top, in a large semi-circle, was a stained glass depiction of angels and demons fighting one another. Decorating the archway were wood sculptures of angels on one side, and demons on the other, colliding at the top. The doorknobs were made of tarnished silver, with carvings of griffin heads on them.

Drew eyed the door a little warily. "The griffins won't bite me, will they?" she asked Jasper.

"Of course, not, m'dear," said a voice that sent all of the hairs on Drew's neck on end. "What in heavens name would make you think of a scary old thing like that?"

Drew turned around to see Madame Leota hovering at eye-level with Drew in her crystal ball, grinning wickedly. Jasper growled at the sight of her, and Drew could have sworn she heard Devereaux hiss inside the duffel bag. Obviously, Leota was not loved by the populace of the Gracey Manor, or at least the animal branch of it.

The reactions from the trio only made Madame Leota chuckle. "Oh, what's the fuss all about?" she asked. "You make it sound like you've seen a ghost." Leota laughed.

Drew raised an eyebrow critically at Leota. The woman was frightening, but she told really bad jokes. Talk about two different ends of the spectrum.

"You know," said Drew slowly, afraid that Leota might strike her down on the spot, "That wasn't a very good joke." Madame Leota made a face, part way between a grimace and a snarl.

"I'm over 200 years old, I can't find the rest of my body, and my head's stuck in a glass ball," said Leota dryly. "Have that happen to you and see if you can crack a decent joke, I'll give you a cookie if you do. Now then," continued Madame Leota rather professionally, "You probably came to talk to me, yes? Well then," Leota slowly floated over to the door, "Step into my office." The ornate doors swung open, revealing the séance parlor, and Madame Leota floated on in.

Drew stepped forward, Jasper following behind, then jumped back when Leota popped her head back out and said, "This is just a one-on-one interview, no animals allowed, so the mutt's going to have to wait outside. And leave the bag too, I know that you've got that mangy cat in there." Reluctantly, Drew put down her bag, letting Devereaux come out. Drew bent down to pull a notebook and a pen out of the bag, and also to talk to Jasper.

"Should I go?" she whispered. Something about a "one-on-one interview" with Madame Leota gave Drew the creeps. Jasper nodded.

"You're under contract, no spirit can hurt you until time runs out or you guess wrong," he replied. "Leota's a heinous witch, but she can't hurt you. She knows the rules. Just leave me and Devvie out here, we'll be fine."

Drew nodded, and with a deep breath, Drew walked into the séance parlor, notebook and pencil in hand.

The room had changed drastically from when she had first entered it, but not in design. The mist that had cloaked the floor had vanished, and the room was lit by five well-placed oil lamps, only obvious now because of the change in the room. With the now-lit oil lamps, the parlor looked surprisingly cozy, albeit a little Spartan.

"Funny what light can do to a dark room, isn't it?" said Leota, floating behind Drew. Drew jumped up and let out a little yelp, causing Madame Leota to let out a chuckle.

"You are by far the jumpiest person I have ever met in this century, do you know?" she told Drew. "I only met one other girl who got spooked by me the way you do.." she trailed off, her face becoming pensive and slightly melancholy.

"The poor thing.." she whispered. Drew looked at Leota curiously.

"Who was it?" she asked, stepping closer to Leota. Leota snapped out of her reverie, looking as if someone had snapped their fingers and woken her up from a rather enjoyable slumber.

"Never you mind, I tell you about once we sit down." Madame Leota said crossly, drifting off toward the séance table. Drew followed her, and sat down in the same chair that had previously sent her whizzing around the room. Now that the room was lit, Drew could see that there was an unusual contraption underneath the séance table. It seemed as if Leota had a foot to press a small pedal down, a staff would move up and hit the table, giving the impression that a ghost was contacting the séance members by rapping on the table. Not only that, but in the light, Drew was able to see that the instruments had thin, nearly invisible wires attached to them.

"You're a con woman?" Drew said, more as a statement than a question. Leota nodded as she landed on her spot at the table.

"_Was_ a con woman, and I prefer the term illusionist entrepreneur," answered Leota. "The Graceys loved a good hoax, so they hired me as the permanent entertainer of the household. Wackiest employers I ever had. They made doors to places where there weren't any rooms, did you know that? Crazies, and now I'm stuck with the whole damn clan…" Madame Leota grumbled. She quickly shook her head, as if to shake away the tangent.

"I'm getting off the subject, aren't I? You wanted to talk to me, didn't you? Fire away."

Drew nodded. "Right. So," she said, opening up her notebook and positioning her pen. "You were an employee right up until the death of the bride--"

"Evangeline." said Madame Leota suddenly. Drew looked up from her notebook, slightly puzzled. "The bride. Her name was Evangeline."

The puzzled look faded way on Drew's face, and she went back to writing. "Right. So, as I was saying, you worked here until the bride, Evangeline, died. What happened to you after her death? Did you stay, move on to a new place of residence?"

"Nothing. I died the exact same time as she did." Another puzzled look from Drew made her continue. "When Evangeline's body was found locked up in a trunk in the attic, on the eve of her and Master William's wedding, all hell seemed to break loose. Master William hung himself up on the attic rafters, some idiot cut my head off when I was fixing the mechanisms on the crystal ball--everyone seemed to just drop dead, by their hand or someone else's."

"Nice way to go," murmured Drew as she scribbled down the information. "Okay, so what can you tell me about Evangeline?"

Madame Leota sighed. "What can I say? Evangeline was a lily on a dunghill--beautiful, elegant, but she came from a piss-poor background with no money whatsoever. The only reason why William met her was because she had been sneaking through the courtyard to get to her job on time. I don't think she ever made it to that job.." Leota trailed off, smiling a little at the memory. "She started apologizing to William, he told her it was okay, she should get to work, and the next thing you know, the two got married. Crazy."

"What did William Gracey's family think of Miss Evangeline? I'm guessing they weren't too thrilled?"

Madame Leota scrunched up her face. "Well, Lativia, William's grandmother--his mother had died in childbirth--didn't mind all that much. She had started off as a circus performer, so she had some sort of bond with Evie that way. Plus, Evangeline had lovely manners and this way of talking--it could coax a rabbit out of it's hole, I swear, it was no wonder why William was so charmed with her. Charlotte, William's sister, had a bit of a grudge against her, but she was just over-protective of her baby brother. Phineas, William's uncle, hated her, but he hated everybody so it was all right. But Master Gracey, William's father," Leota shuddered, "He didn't hate that girl, he loathed her."

"What reasons?" asked Drew.

"Master Gracey was like all men of his age and class--a self-righteous snob. He felt that William should have gotten married to a woman of his rank and class, not to some poor girl." Madame Leota frowned. "I doubt he would have killed her, though. Master Gracey had a temper, but he wouldn't kill someone."

"Do you know of anyone who knew Evangeline? Besides William?"

"The heads of the house hardly ever leave the mausoleum, so you can forget ever trying to talk to William and the rest of the immediate Gracey family." Madame Leota knitted her eyebrows as she tried to think of more people. "Well, Evie was pretty close to the organist--you could try him. He's down on the ballroom on the first floor."

"Thanks." Drew closed her notebook and got up from her chair. "It's been nice talking to you, Leota," she called back as she walked out the door.

"Oh, it's no trouble!" Madame Leota shouted to her as the doors creaked shut. A cold, sly smile formed on her lips.

"No trouble at all…" she whispered, as all the lights slowly began to flicker out, their last illumination of a figure standing behind a curtain.

----

"So?" Jasper said, trotting up to Drew as she walked over to the duffel bag. "She toss you around the room some more?"

Drew shook her head as she bent down to put the notebook and the pencil back into the duffel bag. "Not really, I just asked her stuff and she answered," Drew admitted, opening the bag some more so Devereaux could jump in. "Hop in, Dev. She was pretty helpful, actually. She gave me someone to talk to in the ballroom. The organist?"

"Wolfie?" said the muffled voice of Devereaux. "She told you to talk to Wolfie? That isn't going to help you very much…"

"What do you mean?" Drew asked Devereaux inside the duffel bag. Jasper chuckled.

"Let's just say that Wolfgang Elias Furlong is a wee bit depressed. And one coffee bean short of a blend, if you know what I mean."

Drew looked hopeful. "Still, Madame Leota said that he was close to Evangeline, the bride. The sooner we talk to him, the sooner I solve the mystery, the sooner I get out of here alive."

"As I said before, you don't have a chance in hell," remarked Jasper. "But anyways, let's go. The ballroom is just down the stairs…"

------

_Back in the séance parlor…_

Madame Leota was resting on her perch on the séance table, an irritable expression on her face as she listened to the tense, unintelligible whispers coming from behind the curtain.

"Will you calm down?" Madame Leota snapped, halting the whispers. "So she knows a bit of the truth. Big deal, it's not enough for some wannabe detective to solve the whole mystery with!"

The whispers began again at a faster pace, sounding peevish. Leota gave the sigh that a parent emits when dealing with a maddening child.

"I had to give her someone to talk to! What was I suppose to do? And it's not like Wolfgang will be very helpful anyways--have you ever met the man?" Once again, the whispers began, but more slowly, as if they were a little mollified but still needed some reassuring.

"Relax, will you?" Madame Leota said with a yawn. "So what if she finds out some stuff I didn't tell her? Even with the map she'll get lost somehow and be liberated of her mortal coils, or you'll wind up setting up a trap for her when you get bored. And if that doesn't work," went on Leota, a rather nasty grin forming on her face, "We'll use _him_. _He_ never fails…"

-fin-

A/N: Wow, this is the longest I've gone with any fan fiction. Go me! Sorry it took so long to update, though--I hope I haven't lost any readers. Please don't let go of this story, it's really good! I just have to fight my writer's block a lot more, that's all! ;

Oh, and pay no attention to that man behind the curtain! Bwahaha! >D Sorry, I had to do that!

Anywho, time to talk to the readers!

Teal-Blu: V! Dude! You finally got a chance to read my story. Too bad you hate me and my mad _skillz _though, that kind of sucks. But look on the bright side: you will always kill me when it comes to drawing. Seriously!

Aquarian Wolf: What, no encore? Hehe, just kidding! Thanks for the compliments!


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